Of Cigarettes and Chocolate
by theMasqueradeofHonor
Summary: "We stood there for a long time, remembering the years we'd spent there. I remembered sunny days at the creek, cigarettes between my lips, and my Gameboy in my hands. I remembered a room that smelled like a flower's asshole and I remembered a night of blurs and a morning of throwing up. But above all else, I remembered Mello." An fan written attempt at exploring Matt's past.
1. Of Winners and Losers

**Of Cigarettes and Chocolate**

* * *

**- Chapter One -**

**- Of Winners and Losers -**

* * *

The cigarette dangled there, precariously perched between her still bent fingers. It teetered, about to fall. It had burned out a long time ago.

I watched it fall. She was still, and made no movement to catch the falling bud. She made no movement at all.

Usually by now she would be gone, doing what she called 'adult time'. Her usually sharp blue eyes gazed at the ceiling, unblinking, unfocused. Hazy. They always were after she took her shots.

I sat still as a statue in my corner of the room. I didn't dare move an inch. My eyes darted longingly to the Gameboy she'd gotten for me a few days ago, but I still didn't move. She hadn't said where she'd gotten it, and I didn't ask. That's how things worked.

After awhile my eyes started to drop and I found myself nodding off.

When I woke up, she was still sitting there. She still hadn't moved, and her cloudy blue eyes continued to stare at the ceiling. Something felt wrong, and it made me afraid. I sucked in a breath of bravery and dared to stand up.

It hurt, standing from the position I'd been in for who knows how long. I braced myself, expecting her to fly at me or throw something like she usually did when I showed myself.

Nothing. She still didn't move.

I carefully walked over to the chair she was sitting in, stretching my sore muscles on the way over. Getting to the chair wasn't easy, there was all sorts of debris scattered across the room. When I got close enough, I reached out a small, shaking hand and placed it carefully on her shoulder.

Nothing.

I shook her. "Mom?"

Nothing.

"Mom? Mom what's wrong?" Silence.

I shook her again and this time she slumped sideways, sliding off of the chair and land in a small, pitiful heap on the floor. I cringed instinctively and tensed for a strike.

Still nothing.

"Mom, I don't like this game." I whined. She didn't reply. "Mom get up. I don't want to play." Nothing. "Get up!" Her dark red lips stayed closed. "GET UP!" I screamed at her, over and over and over.

Silence.

* * *

She liked playing games.

Sometimes, when she had a free day, she'd take me to the huge park near our house and play with me until she got bored. When she got bored, she ran off and hid somewhere. I had to find her.

If I couldn't find her, I'd give up and start crying. Then, as if out of nowhere, she'd appear. She'd always be laughing at me, reveling in her victory. Then she'd get silent and announce that I was a loser.

And the loser always had to take a punishment.

* * *

The first few times we played the game in the park, she took it easy on me. She'd hide in easy to find places. Then, the places got harder and harder to find.

I still remember the first time I lost.

I'd looked everywhere I could think of. Around the fountain, in the jungle-gym, over by the swings, towards the benches, everywhere. I couldn't climb the trees, so I searched the leaves with my eyes instead. Still nothing.

I wandered aimlessly on the sidewalks for awhile, not willing to give up. Unfortunately, not giving up was her specialty. She'd never up anything, it didn't matter what it was. She didn't believe in losing.

We'd gotten to the park when the sun was making it's ascent into the sky, and by the time I decided to give up it was beginning to set beyond the hills. I could feel the chill starting to settle in the air.

I was tired, so I sat down on the sidewalk. "I give up!" I screamed into the silence, so she'd know I was done. It worked, because a moment later, she was there, a victorious grin hung on her deep red lips.

"Does the little crybaby give up?" She cooed, pressing her curled hands against her cheeks and making crying sounds. I grit my teeth and nodded, tears welling in my eyes. She threw her head back and laughed like I'd just done the funniest thing she'd ever seen. Her dark scarlet curls bounced about her shoulders, and in the dying sunlight it made her look like she had a halo of flames.

"Don't laugh at me!" I demanded in the way that little kids do.

She stopped mid laugh and it was mildly disturbing. I instantly regretted saying anything as her sharp blue eyes settled on me. A hawk sizing up her prey.

"If you don't want to be made fun of," She purred in a soft voice laced with poison, "then don't lose."

The toe of sneaker flew against my ribs and I crumpled against the sidewalk, pain darting through my small form like little electric shocks. I was yanked upwards by my hair and she was in my face, smiling like some psychopath.

"Losers get punished, sweetie pie."

* * *

She was silent on the drive home.

It was utterly dark out when we arrived at the tiny apartment. The apartment only consisted of a kitchen/living room, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a tiny closet. That's all there was to it.

She took control of the bedroom, and the only living space I had was limited to a corner of the room where piles of old clothes acted like my bed.

One step into the apartment and her hand was grabbing my hair so roughly it made me cry out. She dragged me to the bedroom and then knelt down to look me in the eyes.

"I won't accept losers in my house. Especially not my son." She snarled, all thorns and needles and dangerous. I whimpered, tears welling in my eyes. "Fucking crybaby, always crying. Man the fuck up! No son of mine will cry." A backhand across the face, and the hand in my hair was the only thing that kept me from falling to the floor.

A second later and I was being thrown into the little closet. "I'm sorry mommy I'm sorry!" I wailed, tears falling down my face no matter how hard I tried to stop them. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at me and slammed the door shut.

She came back once, a few minutes later, to throw a bag of crackers on my lap.

"Better make those last, 'cause you're not leaving this closet for awhile."

Then there was darkness.

* * *

I sat there in the little closet for a long time. I tried to put space between the bites of cracker I took, but they were still gone long before she came back and let me out. I made several attempts to sleep, but the pain in my cramped muscles and in my empty stomach wouldn't let me.

At some point I must've passed out, because the next moment light flooded the closet, temporarily blinding me and making me cry out in pain. When my vision returned, her smiling face was leaning above me.

"Your punishment is over. I hope you learned your lesson." She announced. Everything hurt. My stomach was in knots and there was an intense pain in my legs and shoulders.

"I d-did." I answered, my voice weak.

"Good. There's food and water on the table. Go eat." I bolted for the living area as fast as my fatigued body could manage. I was weak with hunger and my mouth had never felt so dry. I barely made it to the table before I collapsed. I leaned heavily against the table and chugged the entire glass of water in one go, then I tore into the PB&J sandwich that'd been set out for me.

Then she was there, standing on the other side of the table, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"I don't accept losers. The more you lose, the worse your punishments will get."

She always kept her word.

* * *

The last time I'd lost, I was given a bottle of water and two packs of crackers. I was kept in the closet long enough that I'd had to relieve myself in a corner and then I had to deal with the smell for the rest of the time. The thought of it made me want to die rather than go through it again.

I thought she was truly playing another game, and I was not going to lose this one.

A knock at the door drew me out to the kitchen where the door was. Whenever someone knocked, she'd always make me go and answer it, no matter who it was, so I went and answered it out of habit.

A man in a blue suit stood on the other side.

"Hello son, I'm Officer Danford, from the local police department." He greeted. "We got calls that there was a disturbance here. Are your parents home?" He combed a pale hand through dark hair and it made me look down at my own hands. I was paler than him, but the dirt that layered my skin made me look darker.

She'd always tell me we couldn't afford baths. Every night after adult time she'd lock herself away in the bathroom and came out scrubbed clean of dirt and makeup.

"…Mom's playing a game." I decided to tell him, looking away from my hands. The man raised an eyebrow at me.

"What game is she playing, son?" He asked.

"It's a new game. She likes to play games." I told him. "I lose a lot, though, and she doesn't like that. I have to win this game so I don't get another punishment." There was a weird look in the man's green eyes.

"…Where is she?" I pointed towards the bedroom and immediately the officer pushed past me and into the apartment. I could see the appalled look on his face at the condition it was in from where I stood at the door.

He made his way into the bedroom and came back out a few seconds later, saying something into a little box attached to his shirt. When he was done speaking, he shut the bedroom door and came over to me. He knelt down and looked me straight in the eyes.

"She's not playing a game."

"But she loves to play games." I explained.

"Yes, I didn't say that she didn't." He started. "But what she's doing right now isn't a game. I want you to listen to me carefully, can you do that?"

"…Yes, sir."

"She's not playing a game. Son, your mother has… passed away. She's not here with us. Her body is, but she herself isn't. She's left, and she's never coming back. I'm sorry son."

"No. She can't leave!" I argued and then made a run for the closed bedroom door. The man caught me in his arms and held fast. "Let me go! Let me GO! MOM! MOMMY!"

"I'm sorry."

* * *

More men in blue suits came. There were sirens.

An ambulance came. A black bag was brought out. Men carried her from the apartment.

She was never so still.

I remember her face as the black bag swallowed it whole.

Cloudy blue blue eyes, chalk white skin, and curls the color of hellfire.

* * *

They couldn't locate any other relatives, so they sent me to an orphanage.

The boys there soon learned about what had happened and taunted me endlessly about it.

"Look, here comes the druggie's little bastard!"

I didn't understand.

I didn't understand their cruelty and I didn't understand why the black bag had swallowed her whole. I didn't understand what a funeral was or what a grave was meant for.

I didn't understand why she would leave and not take me with her.

She was everything I'd ever known.

And without her everything felt wrong.

* * *

**- Save game?**

**- **No / **Yes**

**- Game saved.**

* * *

**Author's Note**

First of all, thanks for reading!

Second of all, this is version 4.5 of a story I did last year called 'I am Mail Jeevas'. You can read what I had so far in version 3 as I haven't taken it down yet. In the original version, 1.0, I never got the ending down so I tried to get it down in every attempt after that but I couldn't get one I liked.

I finally wrote down an ending in 4.0 that I actually liked, so now I'm revising it. The whole story is already written, I just need to rewrite it and chop it up into actual chapters.

Another reason I wanted to rewrite the story is because I wasn't content with how I wrote the characters in the last few ones. In the beginning I originally wrote this as a MelloxMatt fanfic, but now I want it to be more about Matt's past and about their interactions at Wammy's. Romance isn't everything, right?

Also, about Matt's mother, she's actually based on a character I read about in a book I finished last month. The book was about child abuse survivors, and it was a very good read.

Lastly, here's a list of all the songs I listened to that gave me the inspiration and motivation to finally finish this damn thing. _Run Boy Run_, by Woodkid; _Never Alone, Always Alone_, by Takida; _Primavera_, by Ludovico Einaudi; _Witchcraft_, by Pendulum; and _Dark Horses_, by Switchfoot.

Thanks again for reading, and extra thanks if you read this note!

-_theMasqueradeofHonor_


	2. Fly Me Away

- **Chapter Two -**

**- Fly Me Away -**

* * *

When I was old enough, they enrolled me in school. Thanks to the older boys from the orphanage, everyone there soon learned about her and my past. They all taunted me endlessly.

"Look, it's the druggie's boy!"

"Hey, do you do drugs just like your druggie mom?"

"Here comes the druggie's bastard!"

I was too young to understand their words, though I could understand the malice behind them clear as day. One time, I walked up to a teacher, whose job was to educate us, and asked her, "What do the other boys mean when they say 'druggie'?"

The boys got detention and disciplined, but my questions went unanswered. I repeated them over and over for a week, but all they did was ignore me.

Then they got tired of me and they threatened punishment if I kept bothering them.

_"__Losers get punished, sweetie pie."_

I stopped asking and willed myself to fade into the background. But the other boys were like sharks, and they tasted blood in the water. Once they were locked onto their target, they wouldn't relent.

* * *

Looking back, you might say what happened next was the moment that would change my life.

* * *

It was recess in May. School was due to be out soon, though it didn't matter much to me. I'd still be attacked by the boys at the orphanage.

I was sitting on a bench, my Gameboy in my hands, as far away from the other children as I could get. It wasn't far enough, though.

"How's the druggie's bastard doing today?"

I ignored the three older boys who came over, tensing myself as I spotted the malice in their eyes. I continued playing on my Gameboy.

"Did your druggie mom buy that for you? No, wait, she probably stole it since she used all her money for drugs!"

The other two boys broke down with laughter. I continued ignoring them. Their words didn't hurt, because they didn't know her like I did.

"Hey, you little bastard, answer me!" The ringleader demanded, growling.

They wouldn't get anything from me.

Then, they tore the Gameboy from my hands and threw it to the ground. I lunged after it, but the other two boys held me back. The ringleader smiled at me, eyes mocking. He raised his sneaker clad foot and then brought it down onto the device. I could hear it crunch and I screamed.

"STOP IT!"

They all laughed and he brought his foot down over and over. I howled like a dying animal, attracting the attention of students and teachers alike. The kids rooted for the boys.

"Yeah, teach him a lesson!"

"Crunch that damn thing to bits!"

The teachers came over a moment later, hauling the boys off for the detentions they would no doubt be getting, but the damage was done. My Gameboy lay on the ground in a million shattered pieces.

The Gameboy was the only memento of my past that I had. I knelt on the ground, holding the broken remains, as the rest of the children dispersed, laughing to each other. I felt the urge to cry rise up in me.

"_Fucking crybaby, always crying. Man the fuck up! No son of mine will cry._"

I did not cry.

But I did get an idea. I collected the broken pieces and tucked them safely away into my backpack. When I got back to the orphanage, I waited until everyone else was asleep so I could sneak quietly into the junk room, the place where all old mechanical equipment was kept, and where mechanical toys went to die.

There was also an assortment of tools I'd be able to use.

I got the broken Gameboy out of my bag and went to work.

* * *

A week later, I was sitting on the bench again, the one as far from the other children as possible.

I held my Gameboy in my hands, the console working like it'd never been broken in the first place.

* * *

After that, I was engulfed by the allure of technology. I could fix anything with a circuit, I could beat any video game placed in front of me with relative ease, and soon I became the one to go to when you needed something fixed.

The summer vacation before my first grade year is when my newly formed interests paid off.

* * *

I was sitting on my bed, playing another game on my Gameboy, when one of the orphanage assistants walked into the room.

The importance of this action was that whenever one of the assistants would come into our room, it meant someone was interested in adopting you.

The woman, a somewhat plain blonde with brown eyes, scanned the room until her gaze landed on me. She walked past everyone else and stopped beside my bed.

"Mail, please come with me."

I'd never had an assistant come up to me before. No one had ever taken enough interest. I was someone who was meant to stay in the shadows, unnoticed.

I immediately closed the game with the knowledge I'd be able to make my progress back with ease, and got up to follow the assistant. As I followed her, I saw the looks of jealously on the other boys' faces. They filled me with glee.

I'm not the type to hope, but at that moment I remember wishing with all my heart that I'd be able to leave.

In the reception area, there an older man with graying hair talking to another orphanage assistant. I knew all of the people who worked there, so I immediately knew he was the one interested in me.

"Here he is, sir." The blonde announced, and the old man turned to look at me. He smiled, and unlike her's it was warm and welcoming. I tried to smile back, but it probably looked like a grimace thanks to the fact I'd smiled very little before then.

"Hello there, son, my name is Watari. What's yours?" He greeted, kneeling down so he could be on my level. I could detect a slight accent in the way he talked.

"Mail." I answered after a moment. "But… didn't you already know that? You're the one who asked for me." I questioned. I heard both assistants take a sharp intake of breath, and the blond was about to say something when Watari held up a hand.

"No need to scold him. He's a children, he should be allowed to question things." I decided that I liked Watari. He turned away from the assistants and looked fully at me. "Especially if they're going to be one of my pupils."

"Pupils?"

"Yes, that's right. You see, Mail, I've heard of your gift with technology, and how you're exceptionally smart for a child of your age." He explained. "I'm interested in taking you to Wammy's House, an organization that takes gifted children and helps them unlock their true potential."

I was skeptical. It sounded like every school logo ever said.

Watari saw the skepticism on my face. "…Mail, have you ever heard of L?"

"Of course I have!" I replied immediately. Who hadn't heard of the world famous detective L?

"Well, did you know that he was found and brought to Wammy's House as a child? I helped L unleash his potential, just as I will yours."

I had nothing to lose, and it'd get me away from the orphanage where I was under constant attack from the other boys.

"Ok."

* * *

The adoption didn't take long, and by that night I was on a plane to England, where Wammy's House was located.

For a long time I watched the city below us grow smaller and smaller until there was nothing but clouds.

"Mail, have you ever had a candy bar before?" Watari asked, taking me off guard. I turned away from the window to look at the older man.

"…No." She never let me have chocolate.

"Really? Well now, that's a crime against childhood isn't it? Here, Mail, consider it a 'bon voyage' gift." He held out something wrapped with a shiny material and I gently took it from his hand. I examined it for a moment.

"_Winners get prizes, and so do good boys. Too bad you're not a winner or a good boy, so put the damn candy back, Mail._"

"Are you sure?" I asked uncertainly.

"Of course." Then the man went back to reading the book he'd brought on board with him.

She'd left me, so she no longer had any control over whether or not I could eat the candy. I unwrapped the bar carefully and sat there staring at it for a few seconds before I tore into it.

It tasted like heaven and freedom.

* * *

I must've fallen asleep on the plane, because the next thing I knew my head banged up against something hard and I was jolted awake. I sat up and quickly took in my surroundings. I was in a car, and we were apparently on a pretty bumpy road.

Up front sat a man in the driver's seat who looked a little younger than Watari, and then Watari sat beside him in the passenger's seat. The radio was turned on at a soft volume and the sound was soothing.

"When did the plane land?" I voiced. The man driving jumped, and the car swerved slightly, but Watari didn't seem to be phased.

"It landed about an hour or so ago. You were sleeping rather soundly, and since I didn't want to wake you I just carried you out." At my look of concern, he added, "I'm not as frail as I look, Mail, and you happen to be extremely light."

"I'm sorry about falling asleep." I apologized sheepishly.

"Don't be, Mail," Watari dismissed, "you need your rest. We have a lot to do once we reach Wammy's."

"Like what?" I decided to ask, curiosity getting the best of me.

"First of all, we'll get you settled into your new room. Every child at Wammy's has a room, but whether or not you'll have a roommate or get an empty room is uncertain." He answered. "Then, you'll be going out shopping with Roger for some basic items like clothes and personal care products."

It sounded wonderful to me! The clothes on my back and my Gameboy were the only things I brought from the orphanage.

"After that, you'll go through some testing, just to see what classes you'll be taking and to see if we'll need to call in a expert. That'll most likely be tomorrow, though."

Then the car went over a hill and I could see a building in the distance. Other than the gray fence that surrounded it, I couldn't find the words to describe it.

"Welcome to Wammy's House, Mail."

* * *

It was midday when I first took a step inside of the place that would become my home for the next ten years.

Watari led the way inside and I followed close on his heels. The other man, Roger, came in last. We walked into a room that resembled the reception area at the orphanage. Watari walked through a door on the other side of a large desk and motioned for me to follow.

Then we were in what I assumed was Watari's office.

"Did you sort out the rooming arrangement, Roger?" Watari asked as the other man walked into the room.

"Ah, yes I did, sir. Along with the things you asked me to get."

I looked around the room while the two adults talked. There wasn't anything very interesting so I simply dug my Gameboy from my jacket pocket and started it up.

After about what seemed like 30 or so minutes, they were finally done talking.

"Sorry we kept you waiting, Mail, now let's get you to your new room." I perked up and eagerly followed the two men out of the room.

For the most part I zoned out, but I resurfaced enough to learn where the major rooms of the house were and where the door to the courtyard was. And, apparently, that all the children lived upstairs.

At the top of the staircase I immediately noticed that there was a long hallway-like room with a security camera at the end of it along with two doors. The signs above the doors read 'Boy's Bathrooms' and 'Girl's Bathrooms'.

"Why do you have a security camera?" I finally asked, eyes going back to the little device. Watari chuckled.

"Well, you see Mail, we had an incident a few years ago with one of the boys," Watari started, and I saw a fond glint in his eyes, "he got up in the middle of the night and snuck down to the kitchen and ate all the sweets he could get his hands on! Since we'd just gotten groceries, there were no sweets in the house for weeks!"

I giggled at the story since it sounded so strange.

"Now, without anymore delay, to your room." Watari said after I got my laughter in.

We turned left and headed into the boy's section of rooms. I glanced at the nametags outside of each door and immediately got confused.

_Dan. Rain._

_Leo. John._

There was no last names.

"Here we are, Mail, your new room." The old man commented, pulling my attention away from the names of the other boys. We were standing in front of a door with no nametags on it. "For the time being, you won't have a roommate." He explained, turning the door handle and then swinging it open.

I darted inside and looked around excitedly.

The room itself was painted dark brown with a caramel brown rug.

Against the wall to my left were two beds pre-made with dark red and black plaid blankets. Between the beds was a table with a large lamp on it.

To the left of the beds, against the wall where the door was, were two desks with their own little lamps. There was a framed painting hung above them, but it didn't hold any meaning in the world of a six year-old boy.

To my right was a decent sized TV that sat inside its own little TV set. In front of the TV stood a coffee table and two beanbag chairs.

Finally, on the wall opposite the door was a rather large window with heavy red curtains pulled back to let in the sunlight.

"You get to pick whichever bed you want, Mail." Watari said and I jumped. I'd been so absorbed in taking in my new room that I'd forgotten he was even there.

"I've never had a room before…" I murmured softly. I could tell that the old man hadn't heard. Tears were pricking at my eyes.

"_Fucking crybaby, always crying. Man the fuck up! No son of mine will cry._"

I forced the tears away and smiled at Watari and Roger.

"I love it."

* * *

**- Save game? **

**- **No / **Yes**

**- Gamed saved.**

* * *

**Author's Note**

Annnnnd there's chapter two! It was fun rewriting this as the old version was cluttered with unnecessary details that I didn't like.

For the reviewer who wanted to know the name of the book Mail's mom is based on, the book title is 'The Rules of Survival' by Nancy Werlin.

Thanks for reading!

-_theMasqueradeofHonor_


End file.
